


Ministrations and Manipulations

by dlyt



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dlyt/pseuds/dlyt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick plunges into despair after LK, and LaCroix is at a loss as to how to help him recover. To complicate matters, a hunter has returned to Toronto and he's out for revenge - on Nick! Janette to the rescue! But are her motives clear?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ministrations and Manipulations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



Ministrations and Manipulations  
by dlyt

"Damn you, Nicholas!"

In the darkening gloom of the loft apartment, Lucien LaCroix stood tall, holding the sharpened walking stick like a spear aimed at the back of the kneeling vampire before him. On the floor, stretched out in spiteful repose, was the body of the mortal woman, Dr. Natalie Lambert, that Nicholas had both loved and slain. And now, Nicholas was begging LaCroix to kill him. His Nicholas! His son, his protégé, his immortal companion, was begging for death.

Anger surged through LaCroix, threatening to become a blinding rage. Such stupidity! Such needless waste! Such utter, complete failure! Only the strength and discipline of 2000 years allowed him some control over his rising fury. Swiftly, he shifted the walking stick and brought it down hard on the back of Nicholas's head, feeling both bone and wood splinter under the blow. Nicholas crumpled, tumbling gracelessly to the floor, finally coming to rest beside the body of his lover.

LaCroix seethed silently as he gazed at the two still forms stretched out side-by-side at his feet. He clenched his teeth, his extended fangs digging sharply into his lower lip as his eyes glowed fiercely in the darkened room. "Damn you, Nicholas!" he whispered.

**********  
Nicholas woke slowly. His consciousness climbed steadily from deep, recuperative sleep into the soft light of an unfamiliar room. His head hurt, and it was hard to think or move just yet.

He opened his eyes to find that he was lying face down on a comfortable mattress, covered in soft sheets and a warm comforter. The mattress was set upon the floor. He tried to roll over and met with resistance. His arms were chained to opposing walls. There was enough slack in the chains that he could just bring his hands together, but no more. He rose to his knees on the mattress, and tested the chains. He couldn’t break them, and they would not pull loose from the walls.

Anger quickly rose in him. Then suddenly he remembered, and his anger was replaced by panic and despair. Natalie! She had trusted him. She had faith in him. He had failed her. It seemed but a small matter that LaCroix had betrayed them both. LaCroix had refused to let him join her in death. He had no doubt that LaCroix was responsible for his current imprisonment. He knelt on the mattress, brought his hands to his face as best he could, and wept. 

Eventually, he slept.

**********

LaCroix stood in the doorway of the small basement room, watching Nicholas sleep. Nicholas had exhausted himself with weeping and ranting. It was clear that Nicholas blamed himself for Natalie’s death, and he blamed LaCroix for everything else that was wrong in his life.

LaCroix had listened to Nicholas’s rantings while his own anger and exasperation grew. He had given Nicholas the very best he had to give: life, companionship, education, protection. He had disposed of Natalie’s body in such a way as to make her death look accidental. He had cleaned up the mess in the loft apartment. He had brought Nicholas to this basement room, made sure he was comfortable, and restrained him with chains so that he could not harm himself. He had transfused his own healing blood into the younger vampire’s veins. LaCroix had been forced to suspend his own relocation plans in order to accommodate Nicholas’s needs. He had done all he could do. He had given all that he could give. And still Nicholas ranted against him!

As his anger built, LaCroix noticed that Nicholas was once again awakening. He allowed Nicholas to become aware of his presence. Nicholas turned his head towards the doorway and saw him.

“LaCroix?” Nicholas called to him.

He stood, impassive, without replying.

“Father?” Nicholas asked, tentatively.

He allowed the full weight of his anger to become apparent in both his expression and in the mental link that connected him to his son. The cold waves of his fury filled the small room.

“Master,” Nicholas gasped, dropping his gaze to the floor and his body back to the mattress. For a moment, his fear of LaCroix overwhelmed his feelings of despair.

LaCroix smiled coldly and left the room, locking the door behind him.

**********

LaCroix sat alone in his office in the now closed Raven nightclub, sipping occasionally from a goblet filled with human blood. His temper had calmed. He was, however, faced with a rare predicament: he was unsure how to proceed.

As he sat trying to calm the turmoil of his thoughts, he heard a knock on his office door. Who could have entered the Raven without his knowledge? He reached out with his senses and confirmed that Nicholas was still confined in the basement room where he had been left. He sensed a vampire outside his office door, but who could it be?

He crossed the office and opened the door. His eyes grew wide with surprise and delight.

“Janette.”

He had not expected to see her, nor the feelings of joy that surged through him at her unanticipated appearance. She was his daughter, or had been, for a thousand years. But that was no longer true. The link between them that they had shared as master and child had been severed. Now, presumably, that link existed between her and Nicholas. It was unexpectedly distressing to him to be in her presence without sharing that intimate sense of her thoughts and emotions. It was almost as though they were strangers once again. Strangers with a thousand years of shared experiences.

“LaCroix, where is Nicolas? What has happened? I was in Paris when I felt him. I came as soon as I could.” She came to him, grasping his hands, kissing his cheek lightly.

LaCroix sighed heavily. He realized, uneasily, that he was relieved by her presence. She could share some of the responsibility for Nicholas’s care. He turned away from her and returned to his chair behind the desk. He reached behind him and filled another goblet with blood and handed it to her across the desk. She hesitated a moment before sitting down in one of the chairs opposite him. Link or no link, she knew his moods well. She waited while he decided how to proceed.

“The good doctor is dead. Our Nicholas has killed her. It’s the same old story. He fed from her and couldn’t stop before killing her. Then, he asked me to stake him.”

“Oh, LaCroix! He didn’t! How could he? LaCroix, where is he?” Her eyes showed concern, but her voice remained controlled.

LaCroix leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “He lives. I incapacitated him and have confined him in one of the basement rooms.”

Janette breathed a sigh of relief. The turmoil, pain, and anger that she had felt from Nicholas had been so strong that she had felt them clearly a continent away. “What will you do?” She looked at LaCroix expectantly.

LaCroix stood, placed his goblet on his desk, and turned away from Janette, pretending to find something of interest in the office behind him. “I don’t know,” he said, quietly. He stood still, seeking to regain control over his surging emotions. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he found Janette standing in front of him, eyes narrowed as she looked at him critically. As he watched, her eyes softened, and she surprised him by drawing him into a gentle embrace. She reached up and kissed his cheek again. “Mon cher, I’m sure you will think of something.” She released him and turned toward the door.

“May I stay here? Are our apartments still habitable? Or is everything in storage already?” She looked at him expectantly.

He nodded, grateful for the distraction. “I will always have a place for you. You’ll find that the rooms have not been changed. Dust covers must be removed, but that is all.” She nodded her thanks, and prepared to leave his office.

“Janette,” he called, voice barely above a whisper. She looked back over her shoulder at him, waiting. “I’m grateful you are here.” She nodded again, and left the office.

**********

Janette looked with dismay around the room that had once been her bedroom in the apartment above the Raven. “Only dust covers?” She muttered under her breath. “Men!” Her bedroom was in a deplorable state: dusty, dirty, and musty. She quickly pulled the linens off the bed and replaced them with some that she found in the otherwise empty wardrobe. There, that was better. She retrieved cleaning supplies and began dusting and wiping down every surface in the long unused room. After she ran the vacuum cleaner, she brought her luggage in and began settling into the room itself. When her clothes were neatly tucked away, she sat at her vanity and repaired her makeup. She reached out with her senses to check on Nicholas and to let him know that she was nearby. She felt him respond, but was unsure of his emotional state.

This would have to be handled delicately. She was here for more than Nicholas’s sake. In fact, she could honestly say that Nicholas’s need provided her with the pretext that she needed to put her own plans into action.

She had left LaCroix to reaffirm herself as a vampire. Unexpectedly, she fell in love with a mortal, a man named Robert. She, herself, became mortal again as a result of her relationship with Robert. Tragically, when Robert was murdered in front of her, she found herself in a depth of grief that had threatened to overwhelm her. In the midst of seeking revenge for Robert’s murder, when she faced dying from injury, she had sought death. She begged Nicholas to let her die, but instead, Nicholas brought her back across. She had been furious to find she was a vampire once more.

Her grief was doubled. She grieved for Robert, and to a lesser extent, she grieved for her lost mortality. She had lived a long life, and she knew that her grief on both accounts would fade over time. If she could not be with Robert, she was content to once more be a vampire. One thing she could not be content with, however. She would never be content with Nicholas as her sire.

She had discovered something during this time away from LaCroix. She had been physically separated from him before, of course, but until recently had never been parted from her link to him. The link had been more a part of her than she had ever realized. It had taken some time to adjust to its absence. In a departure from her normal lifestyle, she had retreated to spend time alone in reflection. She realized something startling during her self-imposed seclusion: although she would always love Nicholas, and care for him, the companion she really wanted was LaCroix.

It was not the absence of their link that had brought her to this conclusion. Rather, it was her uninterrupted reflection on her vampiric relationships. She had always been physically attracted to Nicholas, of course. After all, she had persuaded LaCroix to bring him across for her. However, too long an intimate association with him had left her feeling smothered and bored. The physical attraction remained, and their friendship, but it was more of a one dimensional relationship.

With LaCroix, however, she had never been bored. Their relationship was unique. In many ways, it was a paradox. From the beginning, he was her protector, yet he delighted in her ability to both protect and defend herself. They had been lovers, yet he was never jealous of her other liaisons. He had remained with them during her ninety-seven year “marriage” to Nicholas, after all. He encouraged her to speak, behave, dress, dance, and think like nobility. He nurtured her confidence, at times almost spoiling her. Almost, but not quite. She kept his secrets, and he graced her with his confidences. He used her for his own designs, yet not only tolerated but encouraged her separate endeavors. They shared a love of their vampiric natures. He cherished her, yet she had not been his favorite since Nicholas had joined them.

On the other hand, she had also suffered from his mercurial moods, as had Nicholas. LaCroix had a need to dominate and influence, if not control, everything and everyone around him. His punishments were often severe for slight offenses or perceived shortcomings. She and Nicholas had often shielded each other from LaCroix’s wrath. Throughout her long life with him, however, she never doubted her importance to him.

She understood its nature. She was his companion. With her on his arm, he could more easily be granted access to people, society, and the powerful men with whom he most wanted to associate. It was a role which she continued to play long after Nicholas was brought across. Sometimes she was the lure, sometimes she was the accomplice, but in all things she acted pursuant to LaCroix’s command.

It was after she ended the “marriage” with Nicholas that she realized the impact of her presence on LaCroix’s relationship with him. Over time, she began to recognize the beneficial influence her presence had on LaCroix, and she saw the detrimental impact of her absence.

Her relationship with both of them began to change. Though she was still complicit with LaCroix in many of his schemes, he never required her to participate in the cruel “jokes” that he played on Nicholas. It was during the times when she was apart from them that LaCroix had devised the most evil torments to inflict on Nicholas. When LaCroix had killed indiscriminately, setting a lynch mob on Nicholas’s trail, leading him to hide in an abbey, Janette had been away. When LaCroix wagered that Nicholas could be induced to lure an Egyptologist to her death, Janette had been away. Almost a century passed before she was informed of LaCroix’s most evil plot, in which Nicholas had been tricked into killing a dancer that he had admired. Although she had been in town at the time, it had been a brief visit between absences. She knew of a fight between them, but not its cause.

It seemed to her, upon reflection, that when LaCroix became bored during her absences, he often took to tormenting Nicholas. He seemed determined to poke their tumultuous relationship with a stick until he got a reaction. Over time, it had caused a strain between the two men. LaCroix's attentions kept Nicholas ever on the defensive. Lately, however, that had begun to change.

Over time, LaCroix’s attentions to her also began to change. They resumed intimate relations at times, and had shared living quarters more often than not. LaCroix also became more willing to accede to her requests without demanding quid pro quo. Most recently, when she had given the Raven to him and asked him to continue to provide protection and sanctuary for her “strays,” he had complied, though it clearly was not something he would have done on his own. Even she had been surprised by how devoted to them he had become in her absence.

When she had thought long and hard about a thousand years with LaCroix, she finally realized what she wanted. She preferred to be with LaCroix, but she had no desire to resume their former relationship. She’d had a taste of freedom, and she liked it. She didn’t want him back as her master. She required a new relationship. Defining that new relationship would be the tricky part. But, she had a plan. And, for the first time in their association, she had leverage. She could always choose to leave.

**********

When LaCroix reentered Nicholas’s basement room, he found him sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the wall. LaCroix held out a bottle of blood. “Drink this, Nicholas,” he ordered, calmly. He expected resistance, but got none. Nicholas shifted slightly so that he could take the bottle and drink from it without straining against his chains. Soon, he handed the empty bottle back to LaCroix.

“LaCroix,” Nicholas began, his voice flat and emotionless. “Tracy is dead, too. She was shot in the precinct trying to cover me, trying to protect me, and now, because of me, she’s dead, too.”

LaCroix nodded and left the room silently, closing the door quietly behind him.

**********

Janette entered the room next. Nicholas had not changed position, but streaks of red down his cheeks betrayed the tracks of his tears as he wept silently. Any residual anger that she felt against him melted away at her first sight of his obvious misery. She knelt beside him on the mattress and took him into her arms. Words were not necessary. They wept together, each in his or her own private grief.

After some time had passed, Janette released Nicholas and sat back, regarding him coolly. She waited, knowing that he would talk when he was ready.

“He wouldn’t kill me,” Nicholas told her. “I promised Natalie that we would be together. She had faith in me, and I killed her. All I wanted then, and all I want now, is to die so that I can be with her again. But he won’t let me. He won’t let me die, and I can’t live without her.”

“Nicolas, you ask too much of him. You ask too much of me.” Hesitantly, she asked him, “Anyway, if LaCroix gave you the final death, how do you know you’d be with her again? Have you already found the ‘redemption’ you sought? Would you really risk Hell, or oblivion, just for a chance to be with her, when you could stay here, with us?”

He looked down then at his chains, then around the barren room, and finally fixed his stare in his lap. “I’m already in hell,” he said. 

They sat together then for a long time, without talking. Finally, LaCroix joined them, bringing bottles of blood. Again, LaCroix ordered Nicholas to drink, and again, Nicholas drank without protest. Janette also drank, but from a goblet that LaCroix filled for her. When she had drunk her fill, she stood and left the room with LaCroix. It was time to put her plan into action.

**********

As she climbed the stairs out of the basement, Janette was glad that she no longer had to try to shield her private thoughts from LaCroix. With the link out of the way, she was able to focus her thoughts on how to guide the discussion so that he would either ask for her help or decide that what she proposed was, in fact, his own idea. And, she had to do it in a way that would not arouse his anger.

First, she went to Nicholas’s loft apartment to retrieve some clothes and other personal items he needed. LaCroix accompanied her, much to her surprise.

The phone was ringing when they arrived. The machine answered, and they heard the concerned voice of Captain Reese, Nicholas’s mortal supervisor on the Toronto police force. 

“Nick! Please pick up if you’re there.… Nick, if I don’t hear from you by tomorrow evening, I’m going to have to send some uniforms over there to pick you up and bring you in. I’ve held off Internal Affairs for as long as I can. You’ve got to come in and talk to them. I know you’re upset about Tracy…we all are. We just have to get through this. Please, Nick, just call me, okay? …. Well, I’ll wait to hear from you, and I hope you call me before I have to come get you.” The machine clicked off. 

LaCroix and Janette looked at each other before both began speaking. “Do you think…” began Janette. “It would appear…” LaCroix growled simultaneously. They both stopped as Janette chuckled quietly.

“Just what do you find so amusing about this situation, my dear?” LaCroix said in a dangerously quiet voice.

He was on edge, and Janette knew she’d have to be more careful of his mood. “Nothing about Nicolas’ situation is funny, LaCroix,” she said somberly. “It’s odd what strikes one as funny at otherwise serious moments.”

LaCroix raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Janette continued, “It’s just that, in all the time we have been together, that is the first time I ever noticed us trying to speak over each other.” The absence of their link screamed in the silence that fell between them. When linked, Janette would naturally have deferred to LaCroix, allowing him to speak first. Now, there was no internal monitor for her to rely upon. She would have to be careful of that in the future. For the time being, she turned away from LaCroix and smiled to herself, bowing her head to hide it from him.

LaCroix crossed over to stand behind her, one hand slowly reaching for her shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped himself. The hand fell to his side, and clenched into a fist. He turned away from Janette and proceeded to the kitchen area of the apartment. Once there, he sighed and turned once more toward Janette. 

“It would appear,” he began again, “that Nicholas will not be allowed to disappear quietly. We must avoid mortals looking too closely at his life before he has a chance to move on. I will clear out anything here that would raise questions from mortal investigators. You were planning to retrieve some of his clothing, books, and other personal items, were you not?” At Janette’s nod, he continued, “Good. Find something appropriate for him to wear to his precinct this evening. Leave the rest for now. To take anything else might raise suspicions.” 

Janette nodded again, glad that LaCroix’s apparent tension had eased with the necessity of action. He was at his best at times like these, when his cleverness, planning, and leadership were needed for their continued safety and survival. She moved quickly to Nicholas’s bedroom and began shuffling through his wardrobe, finally settling on an outfit she had seen him wear before while on duty. 

In the meantime, LaCroix emptied the refrigerator, dumping the contents of several bottles of bovine blood down the sink. He gathered the empty bottles and disposed of them. He gathered all the loose mail and put it into a bag from under the sink. He perused the contents of the lower level of the loft apartment and selected several items which joined the mail in the sack.

Both vampires finished their tasks at the same time, and departed the loft together in Nicholas’s car. Neither was looking forward to their next task – preparing Nicholas to make an appearance at the precinct the following evening.

**********

“LaCroix, would you like me to tell Nicolas about the phone message? Perhaps if we involve him in the plan for tomorrow evening he will be easier to manage.” Janette had steered LaCroix to the office upon returning to the Raven, and busied herself pouring drinks for them both. LaCroix settled himself imperially behind the desk, like a ruler holding court, consulting with a favored courtier. “Of course, I won’t be able to go anywhere near the precinct. After all, I’m still wanted for murder in this town.” She feared LaCroix would lose his temper with Nicholas while at the Raven, but was confident in his ability to maintain control over both of them while Nicholas spoke with his police colleagues.

LaCroix accepted a goblet from Janette and sipped from it before responding. “What, exactly, would you tell him, Janette?”

“I could remind him of his duty to us, or remind him of his debt of gratitude to you for rescuing him yet again,” she began, thinking that this is what LaCroix would say, but knowing it to be the last thing Nicholas would respond positively to. “But,” she continued before LaCroix could speak, “he is so despondent I don’t think he’d react well to that approach. What if I told him that he owes it to his mortal friends to close out this life cleanly before moving on? I could remind him that his friends have lost one colleague this week, and will find out about the second loss soon, if they haven’t already, and that a third loss would be catastrophic to the morale and effectiveness of the department. Or do you think that’s laying it on too thick? I’m not sure what excuse he could use for not contacting the precinct sooner, but I’m sure you have some ideas, yes?”

While she spoke, she continued to busy herself preparing a goblet of blood and clearing a seat on the sofa. She finished by raising her eyes to meet his, tacitly awaiting his approval of her ideas.

LaCroix looked thoughtful. “Of course, he must resign from the police force. I cannot allow him to continue this farce,” he said after a moment.

“Oh, oui, mais bien sûr!” She agreed immediately. “But,” she persisted, “how does he explain his delay in doing so?”

“It doesn’t matter, so long as they allow him to leave and do not come looking for him.”

“Well,” she began tactfully, “you always taught me that the most effective lies contain the most truth. Do you think he would admit to an attempt at suicide?” In response to LaCroix’s immediate glare in her direction, she hedged, “Or it could be as simple as admitting to a drunken binge in reaction to his partner’s death.”

LaCroix looked down, staring at the blood still swirling in the goblet he held. He emptied it in one swallow and decided, “Why not both? A drunken binge leading to a suicide attempt, which I prevented. It will make it easier to explain my presence.”

Janette yawned behind a gloved hand. She was exhausted and still suffering from jet lag, and could feel that the sun had risen while they talked. LaCroix noticed and rose quickly to his feet, crossing to her and extending a hand to help her to her feet. “We will continue this later, after you have rested,” he said solicitously. “We have time before the sun sets to finalize our plans.” He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating. “Nicholas is sleeping. We can talk with him later.”

He escorted her to the door of her bedroom, kissed her forehead, and said, “Sleep well, my daughter,” out of the force of habit. Janette grasped his hands and looked at him calmly and steadily before replying, “Non, mon cher. À bientôt, mon vieux copain. Dors bien.” She smiled up at him before turning to go, but he did not release her, and as she turned back to him, he leaned forward and kissed her lips gently. He cupped her cheek in one hand and ran the fingertips of the other lightly up her arm, grasping her elbow and drawing her into a deeper kiss. He embraced her, breathing in slowly to savor her fragrance, then stepped back, turned, and disappeared into his own bedroom. Only when his door closed did she realize she’d been holding her breath.

**********

She awoke early in the afternoon to one insistant thought: escape! Her link was humming with it. “Oh, Nicolas!” she thought with dismay, once she realized the source of her distress. She pulled a robe and slippers from the wardrobe and put them on as she hurried to the basement, hoping to get to him before he woke LaCroix.

Nicholas stood naked in the middle of his basement cell and raged. Everything within reach was damaged or destroyed. His eyes blazed red, and his fangs dripped with his own blood. Spatters of it covered the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. Smears covered his flawless skin, the only remaining evidence of where he’d bitten or slashed at himself with his fangs and nails. Bloody sweat and tears covered his face.

“Janette!” he roared when she entered the room. “Let me go! I’ve got to get away from him! Please help me!”

Tears came unbidden to her eyes, but they were tears of anger, and she let him feel its full impact through her link with him. “Help you? Let you go? So you can do what, kill yourself? Die?” Her own eyes blazed red and she snarled at him through her fangs. “After what you did to me, you ask me to help you die? How dare you?!”

LaCroix chose that moment to appear behind her in the doorway. His eyes took in the state of the room before him, then he turned her to face him. 

“Janette,” he began, his voice cold as ice, “I will handle this.” As he spoke, he began removing his own clothes, handing them to her as he disrobed. When he was stripped to the waist, he stopped, considered for a moment, then removed his shoes and socks, placing them carefully outside the door.

“I’ll need a few things, if you please.” He glanced again at Nicholas, who still strained against his restraints. “Some blood mixed with wine, heavy on the wine, I think. Towels, washcloths, some soap, and a hose. Do you know where the cleaning team keeps the hose they use?” 

Janette nodded. Her eyes had returned to normal and her fangs retracted while he spoke. Her feelings of anger had now turned to dread. What would LaCroix do? Such open defiance from Nicholas was unprecedented, and LaCroix’s icy calm in the face of it was more terrifying than reassuring.

He ushered her out of the room, and closed the door. For a long moment, she hesitated in the hallway. She heard the low murmurings of LaCroix’s voice, and roars of rage from Nicholas, then the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle, punctuated by grunts and groans of pain.

She left, then, in search of the items LaCroix needed. She left his clothing neatly draped over a chair by the bar before seeking out two bottles of heavily wine-laced blood. Towels and soap from their apartment were gathered quickly, along with Nicholas’s clothing retrieved earlier from his loft. She brought everything to the basement and left them outside the still-closed door to Nicholas’s room. Then she went in search of the hose.

When she returned with it, after a short search, the door stood open, and LaCroix was removing the bloody, shredded remains of the mattress and linens from the room. His own chest and arms bore smears and streaks of blood, and his face was marred by a deep gash, which was closing and healing as she watched. He moved past her and up the stairs, and she took the opportunity to look into the room. 

Nicholas lay crumpled and broken, like a marionette whose puppeteer had carelessly dropped him on a stage, leaving his strings attached, but slack. She approached him silently, and realized two important things: he was conscious, and his face was undamaged. LaCroix’s beating had subdued him, but not damaged him so badly that he couldn’t be made presentable within a couple hours’ time. Janette shivered at the realization that LaCroix’s formidable control extended so far.

She set to work caring for him. She gently and cautiously straightened him out, lying him on his back. She lined up the ends of broken bones so they could knit together properly, taking extra care with his many damaged ribs. All the while LaCroix silently continued removing debris from the room around her. When he was finished, he brought the two bottles of blood-wine to her and left, leaving the door open.

Carefully, Janette fed the blood-wine mixture to Nicholas, monitoring its healing effect through her link with him. When he was finally able to take a breath without pain, she helped him sit up. The blood-wine had done its job, but it would still be a day or two before he was fully healed.

LaCroix reappeared then, freshly showered and dressed. He handed the soap to Nicholas and told Janette to move out of the way before turning the hose on him. Nicholas sputtered and gasped at the impact of the cold water on his bare skin, but soon started scrubbing himself with the soap using the washcloth Janette tossed to him.

While he lathered up, LaCroix turned the hose on the walls, ceiling, and floor, fastidiously washing away all evidence of Nicholas’s tantrum. The water flowed to the drain by the far wall, and disappeared. Then he turned the hose back on Nicholas, rinsing him off thoroughly, efficiently, and silently. When he was done, he tossed the towels to Nicholas, handed a set of keys to Janette, and departed, coiling and taking the hose with him. His footsteps echoed down the empty, silent hallway. 

Janette recognized, without needing to be told, that LaCroix had left her to tell Nicholas about the phone call intercepted at the loft and their plan for him to resign at the precinct that evening. She started by helping him to dry thoroughly, and then to dress, unfastening the chains when he was ready to put on his shirt. As she helped him, she talked to him softly, telling him what he needed to know in a soothing voice. He didn’t struggle or even speak until she was through. Then he turned to her and simply said, “I understand.” She handed him his socks and shoes, and he carried them upstairs into the main room of the Raven, to the bar, and sat down to put them on.

LaCroix appeared then, stepping out of the shadows like the figure of a forbidding god. Nicholas stood and, without raising his eyes to LaCroix, said, “I’m going to need to turn in my badge and gun.”

“I have them here,” said LaCroix, patting his jacket pocket. Nicholas looked up then and reached out his hand for them. “No,” LaCroix said, “I will hold them for you. The sun has almost set. Are you ready to go? Do you know what you need to do?”

“Yes.”

“What will you tell them?”

“They will want to know what happened with Tracy. I’ll tell them. That’s the easy part, isn’t it?”

LaCroix nodded, still staring intently at Nicholas. “Yes. And then?”

“I’ll resign. I don’t think I’d be able to go back there anyway, not with the memories of Schanke, Cohen, Tracy, and ….” His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He looked away and asked tentatively, “Do they know … about …?” 

“Your doctor friend?” prompted LaCroix.

Nicholas nodded.

“I don’t know. If they don’t know yet, they presumably will soon.” Tears threatened to begin falling again from Nicholas’s eyes as LaCroix reassured him, “I took care to make her death appear accidental. No suspicion will fall on you.”

Nicholas nodded again, closing his eyes.

LaCroix crossed to the bar then and poured a shot of whiskey, adding a few drops of his own blood to it. He handed the glass to Nicholas. “Drink this.”

When Nicholas looked questioningly at him, he explained, “You must smell like a drunk if you are to convince them that you have spent the past two days in a drunken haze. Drink!”

Nicholas drank, gasping as the whiskey burned his throat.

**********

The chatter in the precinct squad room died instantly when Nicholas and LaCroix entered. They walked in silence to Captain Reese’s office, entered, and the door closed behind them.

A few minutes later, two Internal Affairs personnel entered the office. Forty-five minutes after that, they departed, shaking Nicholas’s hand in the doorway and wishing him well.

The door closed again. Captain Reese looked uneasily at the two men seated opposite him. “I know you’re entitled to have your supervisor and one other person of your choice present during IA questioning, Nick, but I’ve got to ask why you chose Mr. LaCroix.”

Nicholas stared at his shoes. The interview may only have lasted forty-five minutes, but it had left him emotionally exhausted from reliving the events leading up to and culminating in Tracy being shot. The fact that Tracy’s last words to him, “You could have trusted me,” couldn’t be shared but must be endured served only to frustrate him and make him despondent.

LaCroix chose to answer the Captain in Nicholas’s stead. “Captain, I am Nicholas’s father. Surely he would want me here at a time like this.”

Captain Reese stared at LaCroix incredulously, then turned to Nick. “Is that true, Nick?” he asked. Nick hesitated, then nodded. “Why doesn’t he show up in your personnel records, then? And why didn’t you tell me this sooner, when he was a murder suspect?”

Nicholas had raised a wary eye at LaCroix, but now focused on his Captain. “It’s complicated. He adopted me many years ago, but we had a falling out and have only recently started talking to one another again. It’s too early to say we’ve reconciled, but ….” Nicholas stopped in midsentence, unable to continue with his planned confession. 

“Captain,” LaCroix spoke as though reluctant to continue, “there is something important you should know. Nicholas was planning to tell you himself, but he seems to be overcome. Perhaps I should tell him?” The last was addressed to Nicholas, who hesitated, then nodded.

“Very well.” He returned his attention to the Captain, who was fighting to keep a scowl off his face. “I was planning to move away. As you know, I own the Raven nightclub. I have closed the club and was planning to depart a couple of days ago.”

“When I went to see Nicholas to tell him goodbye,” he continued, “I found him quite drunk. He was also very distressed, going on and on about losing partners and feeling sorry for himself. I’m afraid we quarreled. First he threatened to shoot me. He had his gun out and was waving it around. Then, he decided to shoot himself. At that point, I disarmed him and took him to my home. He stayed drunk until this morning, when I finally locked him in a bedroom to sober him up.”

“I can’t continue, Captain,” Nicholas interrupted. “I’ve decided to resign.”

“Now, wait, Nick. You’re not alone in this, you know. We can get you any help you need, but don’t make such a decision on a whim, just because you’ve had a rough patch of luck.” Captain Reese tried to get Nick to look at him, but failed.

“I’ve already seen to it, Captain,” LaCroix interjected smoothly. “He will have all the help he needs. He will be staying with me for the time being.” He handed over Nicholas’s badge and gun, and they prepared to leave the office. 

As they rose, the door to the office opened, and a uniformed officer stuck his head in. “Uh, Captain, I’m really sorry to interrupt, but you have a call, and it’s information that relates to the detective here, too, so I thought you might want to take it.” He ducked out again.

Curious, Captain Reese picked up the extension, “Reese here.” He listened a moment, and then paled visibly. He held up his hand to stop the departure of the two men from his office, then waved them back to their seats. “When? … What happened? … Who’s there now? … Yes, I’ll get someone on it right away. I’ll be over myself shortly.” He hung up and looked across the desk at his friend. How could one man take any more?

“Nick, when did you last see Natalie?” and Nicholas knew she’d been found. 

He forced himself to respond in a neutral tone, “I don’t know, a couple of days ago? She came by the loft and told me about Tracy. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nick, I just got a call. Natalie’s had an accident.” Reese could hardly get the words out. “Nick, she’s gone. I’m so sorry. I know you two were very close.”

Nicholas closed his eyes, picturing Natalie’s beautiful smile in his perfect memory. He started to tremble and tried to still it by grasping the arms of the chair, but it only intensified. He dared not weep or try to speak. He knew he’d not be able to stop the blood tears once they started. He reached desperately through his link for help from the only one who could provide it.

To his great surprise and relief, LaCroix responded with a wave of warm support. He felt himself steadied from within. It was the most complex emotion he’d ever felt from his sire. Mentally, he felt as though an arm had been wrapped around his shoulders, stopping his trembling and soothing his frayed nerves. LaCroix regretted Natalie’s death! Though to a lesser degree, he shared Nicholas’s grief. LaCroix gently but firmly ordered Nicholas to sleep, and Nicholas agreed, letting his consciousness fade into LaCroix’s warm mental embrace.

Captain Reese saw Nick’s shaking hands grasp the arms of his chair. Then, suddenly, Nick slumped, unconscious. LaCroix reached for him, arresting his fall from the chair and lifting him into his arms. He carried Nicholas through the hushed crowd in the squad room and out the door to Nicholas’s car, which they had driven to the precinct. He loaded Nicholas into the car and left, deflecting offers to call an ambulance and promising to update them later on his condition. 

He drove to the Raven, parking the car in the back alley, hidden from view by several large dumpsters. Janette came to the door immediately and opened it for him to carry Nicholas inside. 

“What happened?” asked Janette. This was not how she had envisioned their return at all!

“Everything is alright,” LaCroix soothed. “He is sleeping. Help me get him settled again into the basement room. It should be mostly dry by now.”

“Oh, LaCroix, must he be restrained again?” she asked plaintively. “Was there a problem at the precinct?”

One glance told her she might have gone too far in questioning his judgment. Hurriedly, she moved ahead of him to open the basement cell. While he waited, she retrieved a fresh mattress and linens and made up a new bed for Nicholas. LaCroix undressed his unconscious charge, leaving him in his underclothes lying on the new bed. He began to attach the chains to Nicholas’s wrists once more, but in response to a pleading look from Janette, he lengthened the chains to make Nicholas more comfortable. He was rewarded with a stunning smile and a beguiling pose in the doorway.

Janette disappeared for only a moment and returned with two bottles of a blood-wine blend, of a less potent variety than she had fed Nicholas earlier. She left them, unopened, where Nicholas could reach them upon awakening. LaCroix escorted her out of the room and closed the door behind them quietly.

**********

They retired to their apartment above the Raven to talk in more comfortable surroundings. Music played softly in the background, reflecting their eclectic tastes. Mostly comprised of instrumental selections, this particularly soothing mix was something Janette had put together for times when she needed to think or concentrate. Now she asked LaCroix for a full accounting of all that had happened at the precinct. She expressed her delight at how well everything had been handled. She was curious to know what LaCroix planned to tell the Captain about Nicholas’s condition in the coming days.

“I will tell them nothing. He has resigned. He is no longer their concern.” LaCroix looked at her with narrowed eyes, daring her to contradict him.

“That would certainly be the easiest thing for us to do,” she agreed. She hesitated only a moment, then exclaimed, “Oh, but I almost forgot! They will want to contact him about the funerals. Perhaps we should have his phone calls forwarded to a number here, or,” she suddenly decided, “we should have them forwarded to Nicolas’ cell phone so that we can have advanced warning if they try to seek him out. Then we can decide how best to respond, yes?” She looked to him, obviously deferring to his judgment.

“Yes,” he agreed reluctantly. Further contact with Nicholas’s mortal colleagues would have to be controlled, if unavoidable. “I will take care of it in the morning.”

They sat together companionably, then, listening absently to the music, each thinking his or her own thoughts.

“LaCroix?” Janette asked quietly.

“Mmmmh?” he responded, reaching for his ever-present goblet.

“What will we do about Nicolas?”

“He is safe for now. I will release him when he returns to his senses.” 

She didn’t argue with him. That would not accomplish her goal. Instead, she adopted a reflective tone, as though thinking out loud. “I wonder. His religious beliefs seem to be the source of his distress.” As LaCroix glanced at her sharply, she continued in a slightly sing-song manner, “He feels he’s damned; he’s a sinner; he must atone and seek redemption.” 

This was the critical point. Before LaCroix could launch into a predictable tirade against religious beliefs in general and Catholicism in particular, she continued, intentionally looking away from him. “I wonder,” she said slowly, as though it had just occurred to her for the first time, “if his religious beliefs might not be the source of the solution, as well.”

“What do you mean?” he asked her. His tone revealed his genuine interest.

“Well,” she launched into her carefully considered response, “in addition to all that nonsense about being damned, and redemption and atonement and all, the Catholic church has some very strong objections to things like suicide. Nicolas needs help deciding to live, and accepting his nature. He can’t decide to continue living without accepting his nature, oui? It seems to me that someone from the church, who is knowledgeable about such things, might be able to help Nicolas sort out his thoughts on these issues, maybe even help him find a resolution of them.”

“Just what do you suggest? That we send him to a remote monastery and hope that he ‘finds God’ and comes to his senses, and that we can then all live happily ever after?” His disdain for the idea seemed complete, but Janette took comfort in the fact that he had not simply stormed out of the room, but seemed willing to continue the discussion, at least.

“Well, no,” she laughed, “not exactly. But there must be some other way to help him resolve this religious dilemma of his, without sending him off to be a monk!” The mere thought of Nicholas dressed as a Franciscan friar made her chuckle. “He is here, and safe, with us. Why not help him here?”

LaCroix gaped at her. Privately, she rejoiced. He was beginning to see where she was going with this argument. She had dropped the seeds of an idea. Now, she had to wait to see if they would bear the fruit she intended.

“Would you turn the Raven into a monastery?” He scoffed.

“Well,” she responded, lightly, “he is already in a cell ….”

**********

In the end, she succeeded. The fact that it had taken surprisingly little persuasion strengthened her belief that LaCroix truly had no plan of his own to deal with Nicholas. He had adopted and claimed her plan as his own, of course, but that was what she had intended from the beginning, and she was content to let him refine and perfect it.

They worked together, much as they had done in the past. Many of the rooms in the basement of the Raven had been occupied in the past by the “strays” that Janette had protected. Some were suitable for mortals, complete with bathrooms and small kitchenettes. Most, like the room in which Nicholas was detained, were simpler, fitted only with a bed, a table, and wardrobe. Janette set about isolating and securing two adjacent mortal – friendly rooms into a suite of rooms connected by a door which could be locked from either side. The hallway doors were replaced with reinforced ones, designed to keep the inhabitants secured inside the rooms. Finally, the furniture was removed from one of the rooms, leaving only a mattress on the floor. LaCroix installed a single, deep seated eye bolt to which a vampire could be chained.

When the room was ready, LaCroix moved Nicholas to it, attaching one chain to him, this time to his ankle. Throughout all these preparations, Nicholas had remained compliant, but neither LaCroix nor Janette was fooled by his outward appearance. The links that both of them shared with him, LaCroix as master, Janette as child, revealed the rising torrent of conflicting emotion lurking just beneath the surface of his outward calm. 

They had relayed news to him about Tracy’s and Natalie’s funerals. LaCroix decided to tell Nicholas’s mortal friends that he had suffered a breakdown and was being treated at a private facility. Captain Reese asked to be notified when he could visit, and LaCroix promised to contact him, never actually intending to do so.

Nicholas complied with all of their requests. His initial resigned attitude upon his return from the precinct meeting was gradually turning to boredom and resentment. He read, played his computerized chess game, listened to music that Janette piped down into his cell, and slept. Any day now, they knew, the dam would burst, and his calm would be a thing of the past. They worked quickly to complete the preparations before that could take place.

**********

When everything else was prepared, it was LaCroix who succeeded in kidnapping the priest. Father Pierre Rochefort knew Nicholas from his work with the Toronto Police Department. He had proven fanatical in his protection of the sanctity of the confessional. They had selected him for that reason alone.

LaCroix brought the priest first into his office. The mortal needed to know what was expected from him, and that discussion must be held outside the range of Nicholas’s enhanced vampiric hearing. At first, the priest had been indignant and angry. LaCroix had handled him gently by vampire standards, which had left the mortal a bit battered and bruised, but essentially unharmed.

Janette joined LaCroix and the priest soon after they arrived. LaCroix ordered the priest to sit down and listen. He was prepared to enforce his orders with violence, but it proved unnecessary as Janette revealed her vampiric nature openly and coldly suggested to the priest that he obey. Father Rochefort sat, stunned, as LaCroix also revealed himself. He guessed correctly that few mortals had survived such a revealing.

LaCroix could not keep his disdain for the church, for religion, for God, and for the priesthood from his interview with the priest. He told the priest that he’d been brought there to hear the confession of another vampire, one whose emotional state was tenuous at best. Janette was surprised by the cryptic nature of his comments. She took it upon herself to elaborate. She told him he was needed by a vampire who was having a crisis of faith, was suicidal, and was in need of help that only a priest could provide. She reassured the priest that no harm would come to him so long as he cooperated with their efforts. The vampire in question was restrained and would do him no harm.

Together, they brought him to the specially prepared suite of rooms. They left him there, ensuring that the door was open between rooms, but that both doors to the corridor were locked securely.

Janette lingered in the corridor while LaCroix headed upstairs into the main floor of the Raven. She masked her presence as best she could and listened. She almost left when Nicholas’s cry of dismay and rage overwhelmed the sound of the mortal’s rapid heartbeat, but she was determined to see her plan succeed, so she used her link with him to reassure him that this was no evil plot. She left only when she sensed him calming and when the priest’s heart rate dropped to more normal levels.

*********

She found LaCroix standing near the exit to the back alley, waiting for her. His face was unreadable, but his tension showed in his painfully rigid posture. He held out her coat and helped her into it wordlessly, waited for her to settle into it, then handed her the small purse he knew was her current favorite. She took a moment to “inspect” his appearance, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his coat lapels and brushing some lint from one shoulder. When she nodded to him, he opened the door, and they stepped out into the cool evening. Almost immediately, they took to the air.

She had anticipated this. His encounter with the priest had fouled his mood. It offended his sense of dignity to rely on a mortal in this way. He was old and shrewd enough to know when to change tactics and try something new, and he knew their plan was a good one, with at least a small chance of success, but it still grated upon him. He felt the need to reassert his mastery of his world, to hunt and to feed from living flesh, to revel in his vampiric nature until his frustration was assuaged. 

Together they hunted until the earliest hints of dawn began to lighten the city sky. LaCroix used Janette as the lure to attract the most dangerous predators the city offered. It was something they had not done together in decades, and Janette had to admit that she was enjoying her role in selecting, seducing, and isolating her targets. Once they were alone, and her intended prey began to attack her, she stepped back and allowed LaCroix to take over. She watched, breathless, as he toyed with each of them, using his vast experience, strength, speed, and agility to outmaneuver and overpower them. He laughed cruelly at their attempts to use weapons against him. Each was disarmed quickly, efficiently, and often painfully. When the prey finally tired, LaCroix would reveal the vampire, savoring the fear-enhanced flavor of their blood as he drained them. When he was sated, he saved the kill for Janette, watching with fierce pride as she dispatched each with delicate precision. 

By the time they returned to the Raven, LaCroix fairly hummed with cold power. His eyes were bright and he walked with purpose, a master of his domain. “Yes,” Janette thought, “this is who he is meant to be: confident, powerful, graceful as a lion. I love being with him when he’s like this.” She took his arm and pressed herself closely to his side as they walked together. “Now, how to keep him this way,” she wondered thoughtfully to herself. She had a few ideas ….

**********

The next evening, when she brought food and blood for the priest and Nicholas, respectively, she found the priest asleep and Nicholas standing, waiting for her. His appearance was unkempt. He obviously needed to bathe and shave, but his eyes were clear and his jaw was set. The veneer of compliance and resignation was gone.

“Are you part of this?” he asked, immediately.

“A part of what, exactly, mon cher?” she responded, carefully.

“I need to speak with LaCroix. He’s got to let Father Rochefort go, Janette. What was he thinking, kidnapping a priest?”

“I thought that the priest was your friend, one of the mortals whose world you want to be a part of. Was I mistaken? Is there, perhaps, a different priest you would rather talk to?”

Nicholas stared at her, suddenly comprehending. “This was your idea. Why, Janette? Why are you doing this?”

She looked at him, calmly, and decided to tell him the truth. “You need him, Nicolas. You need someone to help you. You’re so focused on atoning, on redeeming your soul, on questions only your precious church can answer. The church was never anything but cruel or indifferent to me. I have no use for it, or for their priests or doctrine or rules. To you, though, it’s different. Even though the church sent you on a Crusade, where you became disillusioned, even though their holy symbols weaken and burn you, even though their kind have hunted and destroyed our kind for centuries, you still believe in the church’s power to save your soul. I’ve seen it, and so has LaCroix. We believe that you will never be content with what you are until you solve this riddle, this problem that haunts you.”

She handed him the bottles of blood she’d brought as she concluded, “Take this time as a gift, Nicolas. Find the answers to your questions and your fears.”

He stood, frozen in place, holding the bottles mutely. They stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Nicholas cleared his throat and said, “I still need to speak with LaCroix, Janette. Can you ask him to come see me?”

She nodded and turned to go, and was surprised to find the priest standing in the doorway between the rooms. She hadn’t heard him stir.

“I also need to speak with LaCroix. Privately. Can you take me to him?” The priest was calm, and his request was stated in a matter-of-fact tone, as though he found himself in situations like this all the time. She found herself smiling gently, in spite of herself. She admired his courage and adaptability.

“I will ask him, for both of you,” she said as she opened the door to the corridor. She stepped through and locked it behind her.

**********

Janette waited for LaCroix to return from the basement cells. For the first time since her return, she missed the link between them. It would be nice to know in advance what his mood was likely to be. She sighed with relief when he reappeared, striding confidently and looking bemusedly at her openly worried expression. 

He smiled, and it softened the ice blue of his eyes. “He wanted a shower and fresh clothes,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “And a chair,” he added as an afterthought. “I’ll have to give some thought to the chair.” Janette understood. After all, weapons could be made from chairs. Self-destructive weapons.

His solution to the chair request proved ingenious, creative, and showed a surprising sense of humor in the ancient vampire. Janette laughed out loud as she saw him return from shopping burdened with his two large purchases, and she followed him to the basement in amazement. This she had to see for herself.

He opened the door to Nicholas’s room and found both Nicholas and the priest standing to greet him. They both stared openly while he unwrapped his packages and brought forth … two large bean bag chairs. He tossed one to Nicholas and the other to the priest without a word, then turned and left the room, taking the wrappings with him. Janette saw a huge grin erupt on his face as he turned away from the two men, and she needed no link to know that he was feeling insufferably pleased with himself.

The two men stared at their bean bag chairs, then at each other, then burst into laughter at the utter absurdity of the situation. The bean bags were both a shade of neon-bright yellow, and they held them up so that Janette could see the matching smiley faces decorating each one. She shook her head in amazement and then nodded to the priest, “Father Rochefort, I believe now would be a good time for you to see LaCroix. If you would come with me?” She indicated that he should precede her into the corridor, and locked the door behind her as she joined him. 

She ushered him into LaCroix’s office, careful not to allow any physical contact between them. LaCroix sat, goblet in hand, behind his desk and indicated that the priest should sit across from him. Janette melted into the background, sitting discreetly behind the priest on the sofa.

“I understand you wanted to see me privately … Father?” The earlier grin transformed itself into a sneer on the last word.

“Please, call me Pierre,” began the priest. “Thank you for seeing me, and … thank you … for the chairs.” He smiled slightly, despite his obvious nervousness. Janette heard his heart rate increase and watched LaCroix’s reaction carefully.

“Not at all, Pierre,” LaCroix purred. “Now, what else is it that you need?”

The priest took a deep breath and steadied himself. “First of all, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I think you were right to bring me to Nick. He is in crisis, and I will do everything I can to help him. It may take a while, though. We have a lot of ground to cover. I’m not sure I’m really the right person to help him, but, under the circumstances, I’ll do my best.” 

When LaCroix made no comment, he rushed to continue. “It’s just that I have a parish to serve, and other obligations, and ….” 

LaCroix’s deepening scowl included just a hint of his fangs dropping into place, and the priest swallowed, glanced back at Janette, then looked hurriedly back at LaCroix before stammering, “No, no, no, d…don’t m…m…misunderstand me. I know that you need me to stay, and I’m willing to do that for Nick’s sake. It’s just that, w…well, if I go missing, people are going to come looking for me, and Nick tells me that might create a problem for us.” Before LaCroix could interrupt him, he plunged ahead, “There’s a way to avoid all of that, but we will have to work together.” He stopped and waited for LaCroix’s response, holding his breath involuntarily.

LaCroix’s fangs had retracted when he heard the priest’s willingness to stay, but his scowl remained. “Just what would you suggest?” he asked quietly. Encouraged, the priest took another deep breath and said, “I can write to my ordinary, that is, my bishop, and ask for a period of sabbatical in order to provide a special ministry need. I can tell him that the need is both sensitive and confidential, that I have been requested by name, and that it may occupy me full-time for a period of several months.”

“That is possible?” LaCroix asked, incredulously. “How likely is it to be accepted?”

“Well, I am due for a sabbatical at the end of the year. This just moves the time up a bit. There is another priest at the parish, so the needs of the church would be met. If I am persuasive enough in my letter, it should be approved.” He paused while LaCroix appeared to consider. “It also gives me an excuse to get access to my personal library. I will need my library, and possibly more resources, in my consultations with Nick. If the sabbatical is approved, you can arrange to have my library contents moved here, without raising suspicions.”

“Agreed. Write your letter and your request for your library. I will arrange for the delivery as soon as possible. Also, give Janette a list of anything else you need, including what food to provide for you. We want you to be comfortable, within limits, of course.” LaCroix leaned back in his chair, studying the man before him silently. A grudging respect for the priest was taking hold within him. He smiled to himself while dismissing the man with a wave of his hand and a nod to Janette. He had chosen well. His plan was going to work. Nicholas would be his once again.

********** 

LaCroix delivered the sabbatical request to the bishop personally to ensure its approval. He needn’t have bothered. The bishop approved the request immediately with no need for any vampiric “persuasion.”

Soon, the priest’s personal library, enhanced by several resources obtained by Janette, was settled into his basement room. Consultation with Nick began in earnest.

**********

In the weeks that followed, both Janette and LaCroix monitored the priest’s progress. Janette would steal down to the basement corridor and listen quietly to their discussions. The priest seemed to follow a pre-set course of counseling. He set up a schedule immediately, to provide some structure and predictability to the program. There were designated times for counseling, research, meals, rest, prayer, and reflection. There were also times set aside for relaxation and recreation. LaCroix reluctantly provided the priest with a treadmill so he could get some physical exercise on a regular basis.

They started each counseling session with prayer and a blessing. When this proved uncomfortable for Nick, Father Rochefort compromised with a moment of silent prayer and blessing, which proved more tolerable to the vampire. 

The focus of the first sessions was to hear Nick’s confession. This was part of the priest’s plan to learn as much as possible about the entirety of Nick’s situation before beginning any discussion. As he told Nick, “First we must understand who you are. Then we can explore whose you are. Only then can we determine how you are to proceed from here.”

*********

While the residents of the basement cells were getting started with their counseling program, Janette pursued the remainder of her plan. She monitored LaCroix’s moods carefully, soothing him when necessary, and finding small, frivolous things to distract and entertain him. She encouraged him to resume broadcasting as the Nightcrawler, and soon he was back on the air. She kept him busy with the needs of the local vampire “community.” She spent hours with him debating the merits of various places where they might relocate together. In short, she made herself again indispensable to him. 

Most importantly, she kept him away from Nicholas, allowing her erstwhile brother the opportunity to both heal emotionally and to benefit to the greatest extent from the priest’s counseling.

After two weeks, LaCroix felt confident enough in the stability of Nicholas’s state of mind to remove his chains. Every few days, he brought the priest into his office for a brief interview. LaCroix would answer questions or grant requests, or not, as he saw fit. The priest did likewise.

At one point, the priest asked to be allowed to either attend or perform mass, for the sake of his own spiritual well-being. LaCroix refused, vehemently. The priest refused to continue counseling. LaCroix threatened to drain him slowly. Janette intervened. On the condition that he give his word to speak to no one unnecessarily, and not to try to escape, she arranged for her mortal driver to accompany him to mass at a church outside Toronto. He was not allowed to wear his “priestly garb.” LaCroix followed them by air to ensure he did not break his word. The driver reported that, during the mass, he wept, but he kept his word. He was allowed to go to mass after that, whenever he requested it. Each time, though, he was taken to a different church.

**********

“Nick, in your long lifetime, you’ve mentioned taking oaths at different times. I think I know enough about you to know that you’ve never taken an oath lightly. Let’s take each one, in order, and talk about them.” Janette paused outside the door to Nicholas’s room and listened with interest. This was an unexpected area of inquiry.

“Well, let’s see,” Nick started. “My first oath was probably the one of fealty to my father when I started my training to become a knight. I’m not sure how old I was, and I don’t remember the words, just that I pledged my service to him. I made a similar pledge to DeLabarre when I entered his service. There was the oath of my knighthood. Then there was the Crusader’s Oath.”

“Stop there. Think carefully now, because I don’t know the answer to this question, and it might be important. Do any of the things to which you pledged your oath still exist? Is there anything still in existence that can claim your loyalty to these oaths?”

“Not to those, no.” 

“Do any still exist?”

“Yes. Some do.” The response was so quiet that without her enhanced senses Janette would not have been able to hear him.

“Which ones?”

“Well, most recently, my oath as a police detective in Toronto. I swore an oath of allegiance to Queen Elizabeth II, her heirs and successors. Before that, I swore an oath to protect and defend the United States and uphold the Constitution when I was a cop in Chicago. I guess both of those are still in existence.”

“Yes. Are there others? What is the oldest oath you’ve taken to someone or something that still exists?” There was a long pause.

“LaCroix. I pledged myself to LaCroix, to repay him.” 

“I see. Have you kept this oath? Have you kept all of them? …. How do you reconcile which one to keep and which to disregard, when they are in conflict?”

“Why is this so important?” Nick sounded angry, and Janette could feel his tension through their link.

“Do you remember how we have explored who you are, Nick? You are a complex being. You’re a product of your long life, of the things you’ve done, the professions you’ve pursued: the man, the knight, the Crusader, the vampire, the cop, the teacher, the musician, the artist, the friend, and more! Now that we’ve looked at who you are, we must discover whose you are. To whom do you owe your allegiance, your loyalty, your devotion, your worship, your life?”

Nicholas was silent. Their link flared, and Janette chose that time to interrupt them with a delivery of fresh linens, food, and blood. As she entered the room, Nicholas stood and took the blood from her, opening a bottle immediately and drinking down half its contents before returning to his “chair.” The priest watched warily for a moment, then decided a break was in order and retreated to his own room, closing the door behind him. Janette left quietly, as well, jumping when she heard the sound of a bottle breaking against the wall of Nicholas’s room.

Instead of retreating to her apartment, she entered the priest’s room. He looked up from his desk, surprised to see her there. 

“Just what are you trying to do?” She started. “I was listening. I heard what you said. Do you have any idea how dangerous your line of questioning is? To you? To him? To all of us? What were you thinking? If the church believes he owes everything to LaCroix, that he is, indeed, a slave to LaCroix, then we will lose him! He will destroy himself, and everything we’ve worked for will be destroyed along with him! You know what LaCroix has done to him! You know how desperately he has tried to escape, over and over again. How dare you?!”

Father Rochefort watched with increasing fear as Janette’s fangs descended and her eyes blazed red. He instinctively backed away from her into a corner of the room as she advanced. Then, suddenly, Nick was beside her, holding her and calming the vampire, speaking urgently to her in French. 

They retreated to Nick’s room, where he pulled both bean bag chairs together and sat Janette carefully in one while he took the other. Then both vampires focused their attention on the priest, who had followed them anxiously.

“I think it might be best if you finish what you started, Father,” Nick said tersely.

“Of course, of course.” The priest began pacing the room, both scared and excited. Suddenly, he noticed the large red splotch dripping down the wall by the door, and the remains of the glass bottle beneath it on the floor, and he stopped pacing. He approached Nick and knelt down before him and took one hand in his own. “I was going to walk you through this series of steps for you to reach the conclusion yourself, but in light of the circumstances, I’ll take you the short way ‘round. Nick, traditionally, and in the law, the oldest obligations take precedence over the more recent ones, if they are still valid. So, if you take an oath today, it is only valid to the extent it doesn’t conflict with an oath taken yesterday, or last year, or a hundred, or even eight hundred years ago, so long as that oath remains in effect.”

“But that means I’m doomed to be LaCroix’s creature forever, so long as he exists!” The priest could almost see the hope fading from Nick’s eyes as he spoke.

“No, Nick, that’s not what it means to you. Don’t you see? Whose you are was decided long before you became a knight, long before you went on the Crusades, long before you met LaCroix. Nicholas deBrabant, you were claimed at birth, when you were presented for baptism. Your parents took the oath on your behalf when they dedicated your life to God. They kept their part of the bargain. You were raised in the church. You participated in the sacraments, including confirmation and communion. Your life belongs to God, not to LaCroix, or anyone else.”

“But I’ve fallen away, so very far away, from that oath, that vow, from God. All that I’ve done, how can He possibly still claim me?” Nick’s eyes remained hopeless as he gazed at the priest before him.

“Did you not live through the Reformation? Did you miss the Renaissance? And in Europe, too, for most of it, if I remember correctly.” Now Nick just looked confused, and Janette still looked angry, so the priest got to the point quickly. “You are a child of God, redeemed by grace through faith, Nick. You have confessed your sins. You have repented. You are trying to live again according to the oaths and vows of your childhood. You asked for God’s help to atone and pay reparations where possible. God is willing to forgive you and claim you as His own. At this point, you have only to ask and it will be given to you.”

Nick pulled away from the priest and stood. “It just can’t be that simple. After all this time….” His eyes glazed over as memories took him far away in his thoughts.

“I think it might be wise to take a break for a little while, let you digest this a bit.” The priest turned from Nick to Janette warily, her too recent near-attack on him foremost in his mind. “Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

She looked up at him and shook her head. She needed time to recover from the roller-coaster of emotions she’d felt from her link with Nicholas today. She went to rise from the bean bag chair and found she couldn’t. Well, at least not gracefully. Nicholas turned to her absentmindedly and extended a hand, helping her to her feet. She looked down at the bean bag chairs and involuntarily burst into laughter.

With a black marker, Nicholas had drawn fangs on the smiley face on his chair.

**********

Janette returned to her apartment bedroom and considered the situation. They’d been lucky that LaCroix was occupied elsewhere tonight. She was sure his reaction to Nicholas’s emotions would have been similar to hers, and while Nicholas had been able to calm her and protect the priest, she was not sure at all that he would have been able to protect the priest from LaCroix. Nor was she certain how LaCroix would have reacted to the priest’s counseling session. She would have to take extra care to prevent him from monitoring the sessions in the future. 

**********

When LaCroix returned just before sunrise, he immediately sought out Janette. He paced as she poured drinks for them both from a blood-wine mixture that she favored. 

“What happened earlier tonight, Janette? Nicholas seemed in such turmoil. Is anything amiss?”

“No, LaCroix,” she responded. “The priest says they’ve made some sort of ‘breakthrough’ on some issues. Something about discovering who Nicolas is. Apparently, Nicolas misunderstood something, and it took some effort on both our parts to calm him down enough to be able to sort it all out properly. He is fine now.” She sipped her drink, savoring the strong taste of the wine.

LaCroix examined her face closely before taking a drink from his own goblet. “Good,” he intoned. “We have a more serious problem to deal with.”

She turned slowly to face him. “What has happened?” 

“Do you remember the hunter whose life Nicholas spared,” LaCroix snarled, dark fire sparking suddenly in his eyes. “Yes, Liam O’Neal,” he said in response to Janette’s unspoken question. “Liam O’Neal has returned to Toronto, and he’s looking for Nicholas.” He took a long drink from his goblet and stared darkly into its now empty depths. “I should have drained him when I had the chance. He knows what we are, and worse, he knows where we are.”

Janette froze. Few things terrified her more than being chased and trapped by hunters. 

Liam O’Neal was trouble. He was a chief inspector from Ireland who had assisted Nicholas with a case, years ago. O’Neal turned out to be a vampire hunter, and while investigating the case, killed a dangerous vampire that LaCroix had brought across by accident. Nick had subsequently saved O’Neal’s life, pulling him from a burning car. Natalie had convinced him that Nick wasn’t evil, and he’d returned to Ireland without making an attempt to hunt or kill him.

O’Neal had good reason to hate vampires: his mother had been slain by one, and he’d been bitten, barely surviving. As a result, he could sense vampires. During the course of the investigation, he had discovered that vampires frequented the Raven.

Though the club was now closed, it was no secret that the Raven was not abandoned. Technicians from CERK came and went as needed to service the broadcasting equipment that LaCroix used for his Nightcrawler talk show. Vampires from the local “community” still consulted periodically with either Janette or LaCroix. During daylight hours, Janette had opened up the Raven to get estimates on renovating, redecorating, or repurposing the club space. She was working independently on several alternative plans to rent or sell the Raven property when they eventually did move on out of Toronto, and she wanted to be ready for any possibility. Of course, it had also provided her with something to occupy her mind and her time when she was not running errands for the men in the building. Suddenly, all the activity in and around the building seemed like folly of the most dangerous kind.

LaCroix told Janette that Captain Reese had contacted him yet again to ask about Nick’s condition. He mentioned in conversation that O’Neal had also inquired after Nick following Dr. Lambert’s funeral. LaCroix discovered that O’Neal had stayed on in Toronto following the funeral, and had been raising questions about the “accidental” manner of her death. LaCroix had spent the night following O’Neal, and what he had seen disturbed him.

“Where shall we go?” was Janette’s first question. Always, in the past, their best option had been to flee when hunters discovered their lair. “How can we move Nicolas? And the priest, we can’t leave him here, and we can’t kill him.” At a glare from LaCroix, she amended, “Well, we can’t kill him yet, he’s not done with Nicolas!”

“We are not leaving,” he growled.

“But, LaCroix …”

The red fury of his eyes froze her protest before she could begin to voice it.

“No, Janette, we are not leaving. I will deal with him, here, once and for all.”

She swallowed, trying to maintain her composure. “But, LaCroix, how? How can we fight him? He will have the entire mortal police department supporting him. What can we do? Wouldn’t it be more prudent to leave?”

He smiled, and this time the effect did not reach his eyes. Cold, confident, evil power radiated from him. “My dear, I have a plan. Come, we can sleep later; there is much to do.”

As she followed him out of the apartment, Janette thought to herself that she was very glad not to have him as an enemy.

********** 

Heads turned to follow him as LaCroix’s imposing figure crossed the squad room of the 96th precinct. Whispers began almost immediately as soon as his tall frame disappeared into Captain Reese’s office.

“Did you see that?” “Can you believe that’s Knight’s old man?” “What’s he doing here, anyway?” “Scary guy.”

Chief Inspector Liam O’Neal entered Captain Reese’s office a few minutes later. He’d held back and watched LaCroix from the sidelines, listening to the others’ comments. He was sure now that LaCroix was a vampire, and knew he must proceed with caution. He suspected that this might be the vampire who made Nick. If so, then he was probably more dangerous than Nick, and certainly older. 

Upon hearing of Dr. Lambert’s untimely death, and of Detective Nick Knight’s apparent breakdown and subsequent disappearance into a private “hospital,” O’Neal had immediately headed for Toronto. Since arriving, he had quietly investigated on his own, ensuring that Natalie Lambert was indeed permanently dead and finding out as much as he could about Nick’s whereabouts and condition. He had become increasingly convinced that either Nick or another Toronto vampire had killed Natalie. He regretted his decision, years before, to leave the Toronto vampire community, and Nick Knight in particular, untouched. He would remedy that mistake before returning to Ireland. 

He focused his attention on LaCroix. Instinct and a lifetime of experience told him that this vampire was the key to finding Nick and the rest of the vampire community. Unconsciously, he rubbed the twin scars on his neck as he entered the office and faced his new enemy for the first time.

“Mr. LaCroix, have you met Chief Inspector O’Neal? He’s visiting us from Dublin.” Captain Reese said as Liam entered the room.

“No. I’ve not had the pleasure,” LaCroix responded, dryly. He looked pointedly at O’Neal’s outstretched hand before ignoring it. Staring intently into O’Neal’s eyes, he continued, “Ah, yes, I remember the name now. I believe my Nicholas saved your life a few years ago? It was a point on which we disagreed at the time. I believed he placed himself in too much jeopardy by doing so. I wonder … if your positions had been reversed, would you have done the same for my son?”

Reese, alarmed by the sudden and obvious tension growing in the room, took control of the conversation. “Mr. LaCroix, Inspector O’Neal is here because of his concern over your son’s health. Nick is his friend.”

“I’m sure,” replied LaCroix. The sarcasm in his tone was obvious to all present. For a moment O’Neal and LaCroix faced each other without speaking, each taking the other’s measure. LaCroix was careful to mask or minimize the impact of his presence as much as possible. When he desired it, he could mask his presence from an experienced vampire. Masking it from a hunter, even one as sensitive as O’Neal, presented little challenge to him. It would be better if O’Neal underestimated his power.

“I apologize, Captain Reese,” LaCroix purred smoothly. “It has been a great comfort to Nicholas to know of your continued interest in his well-being. I’m told he is making progress, but as recently as last night he experienced a setback. It will take him some time, I fear, before he will be ready for visitors.” 

“That’s too bad,” Reese said as he shook his head sadly. “Nick has always been a sensitive soul. I hope he’s going to be alright. What facility did you find for him? Is he nearby? Have you been able to visit him?”

“Ahh,” thought LaCroix. “So that’s it. O’Neal wants to know where Nicholas is. Not very subtle, but then I shouldn’t expect much subtlety from one so young.” Aloud, to Reese, he replied, “It’s a private facility, here in Toronto, called St. Pierre’s. At the moment, Nicholas is the only patient.” He smiled inwardly at the private joke. He’d have to be sure he shared that with Janette, later. She would roll her eyes at him, to be sure, but would enjoy it, nonetheless.

“St. Pierre’s?” Reese asked. ”I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, well, there’s no reason why you should, really,” LaCroix replied. “Like I said, it’s very small. It’s associated with the local Catholic diocese.” Despite the danger, LaCroix found himself enjoying his little private joke at the priest’s expense.

“Oh, then, you must be a very religious man, sendin’ your son into the care o’ the church at this difficult time.” O’Neal’s tone was compassionate, but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched LaCroix closely for his reaction. 

“Nicholas is alone in my family in his pursuit of his so-called faith.” LaCroix spat the word, “faith,” as though it were the remnants of a sour meal in his mouth.

“Oh, I am very sorry, Mr. LaCroix! I’m a Catholic boy, m’self.” He paused a moment, then continued, “I wonder, then, if you wouldn’t mind givin’ this to him, the next time you visit him, o’ course.” O’Neal concealed a rosary in one downturned hand and extended it to LaCroix who reached to take it unaware.

When the rosary dropped into LaCroix’s outstretched hand, he flinched notably, snarled and jumped back away from it as it fell to the floor.

“Goodness, but aren’t you the jumpy one tonight, Mr. LaCroix!” O’Neal continued. He bent to retrieve the rosary from the floor and offered it again to him, this time without hiding it. LaCroix took a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wrapped the powerful religious symbol in it before placing it in his pocket. If there was any doubt in O’Neal’s mind about whether or not LaCroix was a vampire, it vanished as LaCroix tactfully avoided touching the religious token.

LaCroix made his excuses and departed the precinct soon thereafter. He was sure now that O’Neal would follow him and he was ready for their expected conflict at the Raven.

**********

LaCroix returned to a chaos of activity at the Raven. Workmen, both mortal and vampire, were everywhere, and the impact of their presence was immediately apparent. Carpenters and construction workers swung hammers, some tearing down the stage and into two of the walls, others building the framework of a newly redesigned bar. Electricians on ladders were disassembling and removing light fixtures. On boards suspended between sawhorses, architectural drawings were spread out with various tools acting as impromptu paperweights.

He found Janette there beside the drawings, in deep conversation with the architect. He joined her and found that their quickly implemented but well-conceived plans were in full operation. The renovations were real. LaCroix had decided to renovate the Raven, repurpose the space, and rent it out when he moved on.

Each mortal workman had been carefully screened and was under the hypnotic “influence” of a vampire. Those who could resist such influence had been dismissed and sent home. Several vampires from the local “community” were scattered among the workers, watching out for Liam O’Neal’s appearance.

He didn’t show.

Not that night.

Nor the next.

The following evening, at dusk, Janette set out to shop for needed supplies. LaCroix left soon after, to hunt for O’Neal.

He found him at the 96th precinct and followed him to an all-night diner, where he surprised him by appearing beside him at his table.

“Well, hello, Mr. LaCroix. I expected you might come see me. Please, join me.” He stood to move his coat and things off the chair closest to LaCroix. Simultaneously, LaCroix turned the chair and prepared to sit. Suddenly, he felt a sharp, burning pain in his thigh and sat down in the chair, hard. He reached down and raked his hand over the small, sharp edge of a dart. It cut his hand, which immediately started burning like fire. 

Suddenly O’Neal was leaning in close to him. “Whoa, big fella,” he said loudly. “Just how much did you have to drink before you found me?” LaCroix felt another sharp sting on his shoulder, and another on his chest as Liam shot two more darts into him from the spring-loaded holsters on both wrists. O’Neal’s face hovered close to his. His voice was soothing, barely a whisper, but the words made LaCroix’s eyes blaze red in anger and fear. “There, there, now. That’s better. A little cocktail of my own for you. Curare and holy water. That’ll keep you quiet until we can get you to a place where we can talk.” Yet another sting. His insides erupted in fiery pain, even as his vision blurred and his hands and teeth turned numb. He crumpled to the floor, awake, aware, immobile, and in agony. 

“Can you get me a couple of lads to help me carry him, luv?” LaCroix heard O’Neal talking to the waitress as though from a great distance. His last conscious thought as he was hoisted into the back seat of O’Neal’s rental car was a cry for help. “Nicholas!” He knew there could be no answer.

**********

He awoke to pain. As the room came into focus, he realized that the pain wasn’t his. Why had he passed out? LaCroix! This was LaCroix’s pain! LaCroix was in agony, and calling for help. But how could he answer? 

Should he even try?

He began to pace. He had ignored such calls before, and escaped from LaCroix. Could he do it again, now? If LaCroix were destroyed, he’d be free!

Another wave of pain flooded him through the link. He reached out to LaCroix, then, and touched his mind. It was O’Neal! O’Neal was torturing LaCroix to get to him! In his home! At his loft apartment! More pain, more suffering, because of him! No! No more! He reached out boldly to LaCroix, then, as LaCroix had done for him in the precinct, to help him escape the pain, to sleep. He failed. 

Suddenly, he felt Janette’s presence surge through their link. She was not nearby, but had felt his reaction to LaCroix’s distress. He stopped pacing and focused on the link with intensity that he had ever been able to muster before. “Janette! Help LaCroix! At my apartment! Hurry!” he urged her. He tried to reach out to LaCroix again, to let him feel that help was on the way, when a new wave of severe pain tipped him over the edge of consciousness. He collapsed.

**********

Janette looked around the alley behind the bar where she had stopped to feed. She thought for a moment and then returned to the bar. She caught the eyes of three of the roughest looking of the bunch and sidled up to them, using her seductive charms to her fullest. When she had their attention, she hypnotized them all and they left the bar together. She had the mortals take her to Nicholas’s apartment. They all ascended the elevator together. 

The mortals reacted much as Janette expected them to when they saw an unconscious LaCroix, stripped to his underwear, bound in ropes, with burns apparent on various parts of his body. They froze. Suddenly, the foremost mortal grunted and sagged to his knees. The wooden shaft of a crossbow bolt protruded prominently from his chest. Janette and the remaining two mortals stared first at the wounded man and then at Liam O’Neal, as he tossed his empty crossbow aside and stepped out of hiding to confront them.

As the wounded man dropped to the floor, his companions raced toward O’Neal. The fight was brutal, and short. It ended with O’Neal unconscious on the floor, sporting a couple of heavily bleeding knife wounds. They began to strip him in the same way he’d stripped LaCroix, looking for more weapons and hoping for some valuables. They discovered the empty dart holsters, hidden knives, and a number of crosses, crucifixes, and rosaries in his pockets, around his neck, and tattooed on his body. When he awakened and tried to fight back, they beat him mercilessly. 

Janette, in the meantime, had rushed to LaCroix. She was repelled instantly. The ropes binding him had been soaked in garlic oil and holy water, and a large crucifix had severely burned the skin over his heart, where it had been tied in place. 

She called one of the men over to her. He left O’Neal and came to LaCroix’s side. With a knife, he started to gently cut away the ropes that bound the ancient vampire. The burned skin under all of the ropes and the crucifix caused the man to turn away. Even the gag in his mouth, when removed, proved to have burned him. The man who’d been shot with the crossbow was dead. His friend knelt beside him, unsure what to do.

Janette paused to think of a solution to this mess. In a moment, she smiled coldly. She had the two mortals help LaCroix, moving him into the shower upstairs. As the water sluiced away the remnants of garlic and holy water, she captured the mortals’ attention once more. They had been hired by her to help move some things from Nicholas’s apartment to make him more comfortable at the “hospital.” Upon arriving, they had surprised O’Neal, who killed their friend. They were angry and upset about their friend, but proud that they had rescued LaCroix, who they didn’t know, and had protected Janette, who was LaCroix’s friend.

She had one of the men call an ambulance and then Captain Reese at the 96th precinct. She sent the other to help LaCroix out of the shower. While they were occupied, she walked over to where O’Neal huddled on the floor and kicked him, breaking his larynx. Then she reached down and snapped his neck, killing him. 

The ambulance arrived within minutes. She “persuaded” the ambulance crew to dress his wounds, “convincing” them that he was not seriously enough injured to be transported to the hospital. She allowed photographs to be made of his injuries before they were bandaged. That would help with the mortals, later. When all of his injuries were safely hidden from sight, and the ambulance crew had left, she opened her wrist with her fangs and allowed her blood to drip into his damaged mouth. He stirred, swallowing a few times before her wound healed over. Slowly, the paralysis that had held him began to ease, along with the pain. She went to retrieve his clothes. She was helping him dress when Reese arrived.

**********

Reese just couldn’t believe it. In what clearly had been a battle of self-defense, and in defense of Mr. LaCroix and this Janette deBrabant person (another previously unknown relative of Nick’s), two street thugs had slain O’Neal. Who could have guessed that O’Neal was so unstable? Who used crossbows anymore, anyway? One man was dead, undoubtedly killed by O’Neal, and he’d seen the damage done to Nick’s adoptive father. 

LaCroix had been unable to provide much information. O’Neal had invited him for a cup of coffee, and LaCroix had met him at a diner close to the 96th precinct. When he arrived, O’Neal had drugged him, brought him to Nick’s apartment, and tortured him, wanting to know where Nick was. At some point he must have passed out. He awakened just as Reese had arrived on the scene.

No charges were filed.

**********

Janette nursed LaCroix back to health quickly, bringing him blood and allowing him to heal. When he discovered all that had been done to save him, he realized he’d underestimated O’Neal. He hadn’t truly underestimated a mortal in centuries, and the fact that he had done so now disturbed him more than he thought possible. 

He spent several days recuperating before meeting with Nicholas. When he finally did, they spoke privately for more than four hours before LaCroix returned to the apartment rooms above the Raven. Janette was waiting for him. She served him some blood-wine mixture in a goblet and sat with him on the sofa. She waited for him to speak, and when he did not, she took his hand and kissed it, asking, “What is troubling you, mon cher?”

“Nothing, my dear,” he replied automatically. “I am fine.”

“Is Nicolas all right? He feels distant to me, yet calm enough.” She leaned into his shoulder, prompting him to raise his arm and wrap it around her.

“Nicholas is fine, Janette.” He hesitated for a long moment, debating within himself. She waited, patiently, not sure what was troubling him, but knowing that he would share it with her, or not, as he saw fit, and she would simply have to wait in order to figure it out. She sighed, gently. Sometimes men were such trouble. They didn’t know themselves what was wrong, half the time, unless they bothered to talk with someone about it, and then when they did talk, they were usually able to come to a solution fairly quickly. 

Of course, LaCroix was often an exception to this rule. His mind worked so fast, and he was so confident in his own abilities and opinions, that he most often both identified and solved his own troubles in internal dialogues with himself. When he did share a trouble with her, most often it was in an effort to manipulate her into doing what he wanted her to do to help him solve it.

She sensed he was in a rare mood today, though. He had returned from his long visit with Nicholas in a distinctly thoughtful disposition.

As he felt Janette sigh, LaCroix shifted his focus to her. “She deserves to know my thoughts,” he ruminated. After composing them in his mind, he began.

“Why did you come to my aid, Janette?” he asked, simply.

This line of questioning surprised her. With a slight frown, she responded, “How could I not?”

“Too easily, my dear. As you have pointed out, you are no longer mine. I no longer have any claim over you. For years both you and Nicholas desired nothing more than to be free of me. You thought I didn’t know, of course, but thoughts and feelings such as those are difficult to hide for long.”

She didn’t deny it. She merely waited for him to continue. Suddenly, she understood, and it both intrigued and frightened her.

“LaCroix, why did Nicolas send me to you?” This was the heart of the matter, she was sure now.

He rose and refilled his goblet before continuing. It would be difficult to be honest with her about this, but he realized she had earned the right to know, and he would not deny her the truth, risky as it was for him.

“Nicholas didn’t save me out of loyalty or love or a sense of duty,” he stated, coldly. “Nicholas thinks he was obeying his God in some way. By failing to act when he could save me, it would have been the same as killing me himself if I died. Mine would just have been another death eating away at his ‘conscience.’ He is so devoted to his own anguished suffering that he cannot reject its true cause. Instead, he embraces it like a lover and pulls it close against his breast. While he is thus engaged, he will be able to embrace no other. His guilty conscience is his lover.

“He has no love for me, no desire for my company. Even the memory of pleasant times between us gives him no pleasure. He feels a debt to me, as he should, for all I have done for him, but he counts that as little when compared to what he perceives as my injuries to him. All I mean to him now is duty. I could accept that if it were the reason he stepped in to save me, but it’s not. He saved me to satisfy his lover, his guilty conscience.

“If someone were to destroy me tomorrow, and he had no role in either committing or preventing the deed, he would rejoice at my death.” He stopped speaking, staring blankly in front of him.

“It is a bitter pill to swallow.” 

He turned, then, and looked at Janette. She gazed back at him, calmly. It was as though he was seeing her for the first time, again. She was so much a part of the background noise of his life that he rarely paid her any direct attention. Now she claimed his entire focus. As his eyes narrowed their focus on her, she turned away from him, sipping from her goblet and presenting her profile for him to gaze at. She need give him only a bit more time, and he would find the solution.

Since Janette had returned to help with Nicholas, LaCroix had assumed she was there only to assist in that task. He now realized how shallow that analysis had become. Casting his mind back over the past several weeks, he found her everywhere within his memories. He’d been astonished to hear about her efforts to rescue him. He knew that, even as recently as a hundred years ago, she would not have been capable of such planning and execution on such short notice. He saw elements of himself in the rescue plan, and it occurred to him that she had probably learned by watching him.

Like a flash of lightning, he also saw all of the times, including now, where she had used her abilities to manipulate him into doing what was best for him, even at the risk of inconvenience to herself. This was a skill he knew she could not have developed while linked to him. She’d learned manipulation from him, and was using it on him, with great success. He should be furious. Instead, he was both impressed and flattered. She was not “managing” him, but looking back he could find several times when she helped take the edge off potentially explosive situations.

He had to face it: he was better when she was with him. He found himself hoping she realized that she was better for being with him.

He reached out his hand to her, and she took it. He helped her to her feet and set aside their goblets. Taking both her hands in his, he kissed them. “I haven’t thanked you properly yet for rescuing me,” he said lightly, with a small smile. “What does my lady desire?”

She drew close to him, putting her arms around his neck and drawing him down to her for a kiss, then turned away, out of his arms. She was so close, so close, and yet the time was not quite right.

“Would you really like to know, LaCroix?” she asked him, serious for a moment. “I may surprise you.”

“Lately you are full of surprises, my dear,” he responded confidently. He’d already decided that if what she wanted was within his power to attain, then he would stop at nothing to please her.

“I will tell you when the time is right.” She knew he would wait patiently. He understood and honored debts of gratitude. She wanted to wait until what she desired was also his desire, and not a debt to be repaid. In the meantime, she would wait, and listen, and watch, until the right time presented itself.

He nodded, understanding her. 

**********

By the end it took several months, but in the end the priest achieved through counsel and prayer what LaCroix had failed to do in a century of censure and ridicule: Nicholas made peace with the vampire within him. He accepted the necessity of drinking human blood, so long as the source was freely donated. Otherwise, he knew that animal blood would sustain him, but he would drink it only as a substitute, not as his primary source of nutrition. Most importantly, however, he had begun to forgive himself for his many sins, and had fervently asked God to forgive and help him. He still desired to atone for his actions, yet realized no amount of atonement could ever expiate his sin or guilt. He had begun to understand God’s grace, and its role in his potential redemption and salvation. He was no longer suicidal.

Janette began encouraging short visits by LaCroix to Nicholas in his basement cell. She visited Nicholas as well, mostly to discern the effect that LaCroix’s visits were having on the relationship between the two vampires.

One thing remained unresolved between them. 

One night Nicholas asked to speak with LaCroix alone. They spoke for a few moments about inconsequential things. Finally, LaCroix asked Nicholas what he needed to talk about which required privacy.

Nicholas surprised LaCroix by kneeling in front of him and taking his right hand in both of his and kissing his ring in a gesture of fealty. “LaCroix, I’ve learned so much during the past weeks with Father Rochefort. I want to thank you for not taking my life when I begged you to. Thank you for all you’ve done for me, for keeping me safe and providing Father Rochefort to help me heal. I ask your forgiveness for the many times I have failed to keep my oath to repay you. I’ve hurt you. I’ve allowed you to be hurt by others. I’ve disobeyed you at times when I should have obeyed. I have failed in my duty to you. I beg your forgiveness and formally ask you to release me from my oath.”

Sensing LaCroix’s immediate anger, Nicholas swallowed and continued, “If you will not release me, I will still return to you, my master, but there are conditions. I took an oath to God long before I took one to you, and my duty to Him takes precedence. If you still want me after I finish telling you about the conditions of my service, then I am yours to command. I will not harm you nor allow you to be harmed, but I am honor-bound to follow God’s commandments. If your requests don’t conflict with my duty to God, I will obey you. In particular, that means no killing, LaCroix. I won’t kill for you.”

With an angry snarl, LaCroix hissed, “I will not take a second seat to anyone! I made you! You are my creation!”

“Please, LaCroix. You have valued my loyalty in the past. You will have it again, in all things except those mandated by God. If you cannot accept this, then I must be content to spend my days and nights confined by you indefinitely.”

LaCroix released Nicholas’s hands and stepped back. “I will consider what you’ve said. You will have my decision soon.” He turned on his heel, leaving Nicholas on his knees, and left the room, once more locking it behind him.

For more than a night and a day, LaCroix seethed. Janette, warned ahead of time by Nicholas, found other places to be in order to stay out of his way. He pelted Nicholas with his fury along their connection in the link.

Once his temper was back under control and his mood was stabilized, LaCroix began to think tactically. What Nicholas offered was really quite a concession. LaCroix could definitely see it as a victory on his part. It was an excellent first step. If Nicholas did not desire his companionship, at least he was acknowledging LaCroix’s desire for and right to it. He had acknowledged his fealty to LaCroix, after all. Arguments could be made subtly, over time, to bring him back into compliance with his will. After all, they had plenty of time, and he could be very persuasive….

The next night, LaCroix accepted Nicholas’s fealty and formally forgave him. He still didn’t release him, though. He encouraged Nicholas to continue working with the priest, and Nicholas, relieved that his proposal had been accepted, agreed. Father Rochefort and Nicholas continued their work. 

Finally, the day came when Nicholas asked LaCroix to release the priest and return him to his parish. Of course, LaCroix refused. LaCroix’s plan from the beginning had been to either kill the priest or to remove his memory if he allowed him to live. Janette intervened, arguing that the priest, with his memories intact, might still be needed in the future. She suggested that he be released and that Nicholas be made responsible for him. She gently reminded LaCroix of the favor owed her, the thing she wanted most. LaCroix immediately agreed. Both the priest and Nicholas were released from their basement prison, and Nicholas joined them in the apartment above the Raven.

LaCroix’s agreement to spare the priest and release Nicholas was the last step in Janette’s preparations for her final plan. She wasted no time once everything was in place.

**********

The next evening, Janette invited LaCroix to join her on what had become her routine evening walk. Sometimes she walked along the lakefront in solitude, but other times through the streets downtown, watching the people. LaCroix agreed, and soon they were meandering amiably together, with no particular destination in mind.

“Thank you, Lucien, for joining me this evening.”

He glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow in question briefly as he noted her more intimate form of address. “Indeed,” he replied, “it is a pleasant night for a walk.”

“Yes. I’m glad for the opportunity to talk with you.”

He stopped, then turned to face her. “Really? Why?”

She returned his gaze, steadily. “I realized something recently.” She paused.

“What?” He asked, stiffly, his entire attention focused upon her.

She took a half step toward him, gently grasping the lapels of his coat and pressing herself lightly against him. “We work well together. I’ve missed that,”  
she said. “Still, things have changed. I’m no longer your daughter, Lucien.”

He reached out and grasped her upper arms, pulling her more firmly into an embrace. He looked down into her upturned face for a moment, then turned to continue walking, keeping an arm wrapped companionably around her shoulders, drawing her with him. He waited for her to continue speaking, not wanting to interrupt before she was through, sensing her need to complete her thoughts.

After a few moments, she continued. “It’s been nice being with you again. I’d like to stay with you as your companion, your partner. I think we are stronger together than apart.” There. She’d said it. It was now her turn to wait.

“You are returning to me?” He asked, as they continued to stroll together. “Of your own free will?”

“Yes, Lucien.” She held her breath waiting for his response. All of her plans had focused on this one point. His response now would determine the course of their futures.

“Indeed.” He stopped walking then, and held her away from him, looking intently into her eyes. She gazed back at him, meeting his look with an intensity of her own. He released her then, opening his arms and inviting her into his embrace. She moved forward, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head upon his chest. He held her to him and kissed the top of her head. Then he moved back, placed his hand under her chin and raised her lips to his own. He kissed her gently, and then again with more passion.

“And what of Nicholas?” He asked when they parted, scrutinizing her closely to gauge her reaction.

“I will always care for Nicolas,” she responded. “But he will never be to me what you have been, what you are.”

“And what is that?” He asked, the vampire deepening his voice.

She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand before replying, “My eternal companion. When apart from each other we both are incomplete. Together no force can stand against us. I want you, Lucien.” She smiled up at him.

He looked down at her, astonished. Even after a thousand years, she could still surprise him. He remembered, then, what he had tasted in her blood as she revived him in Nicholas's apartment. He'd been too distracted at the time to focus on it, but it was there. He crushed her to him, kissing her deeply. After a thousand years, to discover that he had conquered her heart….

Nicholas be damned!

**Author's Note:**

> French Translations:  
> mon cher = my dear  
> mais bien sûr = but of course  
> À bientôt, mon vieux copain = until later, my old companion (close friend). The word, "copain," carries special significance in this case. I have read that in the early days of the French Foreign Legion, the Legionnaires would pair up to share equipment burdens. Each would carry half of a tent, half of a mess kit, etc. The relationship that developed between the two was that of "copains," and was often described as closer than marriage, where the life of each often relied upon the actions of the other. Intimate relations were often hinted at between copains, and the death of one was often devastating to the other. It seemed a more appropriate term for Janette to use than the generic "ami" (friend) in describing the relationship between her and LaCroix.  
> dors bien = sleep well
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> This was written for Merfilly, in the 2015 FKFicFest, in response to the Prompt: The relationships of the show are always unbalanced, with the obsession placed on Nick, but I'd love to see something that underscores why Janette remains loyal to Lacroix in her own right. I do read her as being exasperated with him from time to time, and capable of fearing him, but not afraid of him, if that makes sense.
> 
> I'm not a theologian. Neither am I Catholic, though I was educated (by Nuns!) in Catholic schools. In this story I have summarized what arguments I believe would most likely compel Nick to achieve his goals of redemption and salvation, based on his comments and behaviors in FK canon.


End file.
